re:Bound
by sheltered by my dreams
Summary: In an intricate and natural way, Lucas belonged. But he did not know if it was enough to keep him here. ::: Friendship!Ness


He is going to miss this place, he mourns, his conflicted cerulean eyes scanning the extravagant lobby for what seems to be the final time. He is the last Smasher to exit, as the others are already outside and bidding their heartfelt farewells and hoping genuinely to cross paths again. The veteran Smashers seem especially weary and saddened, knowing that some of the participants of this tournament may not return.

Tensely, he clenches one of the handles of the grandiose double-doors. He hopes he will be able to come back to this: the intimidating Smash Mansion and the dysfunction family of Smashers he has, more and less, come to know and love.

"Lucas?" A hand lands on his shoulder none too gently. Though the motion is done roughly, it does not injure, and it ends in an assured, companionable grip he is all too familiar with.

The blond-haired boy turns with a shy but earnest smile to a dark-haired boy who brandishes what appears to resemble a miniature Smash Ball, complete with revolving air ribbons, hovering gently above his palm. "This is for you," the boy explains as he adjusts his baseball cap. "Master Hand and Crazy Hand are handing these out as a sort of memorabilia for the tournament."

In awe, Lucas carefully accepts the animated figurine. The sphere tosses prismatic refractions across his skin, illuminating it in brilliant shades and hues of color he did not know could exist. He never had anything quite as lovely – for lack of a better word – as this back home.

The boy grins good-naturedly at his friend's almost religious reverence. "Pretty neat, huh? They've never really done anything as fancy as this before. I guess maybe because it's been one of the more successful tournaments and the fact that we've had the most Smashers yet!"

"Y-Yeah," Lucas whispers, his hand unconsciously curling even closer around his Smash Ball. At the mention of the Smashers and the sheer amount of them (thirty-five!), his fears begin to trickle into his mind again, revolving around his irresolute return. Glancing at one of his closest friends, Lucas is honestly horrified at the thought of never being able to see him – or any of his other companions, for that matter – ever again. Their everyday presence was something he realizes he had taken advantage of, always laughing at their silly antics or some other well-intention-turned-catastrophe. Not to mention, all those video game matches that stretched late into the night to determine a sole victor, or being dragged as an unwilling participant of some harebrained prank…only to wind up alternating between screaming and shrieking as they fled from an enraged victim.

The Brawls themselves were also something he would reminisce over fondly. Most of the Smashers were amiable and true representations of sportsmanship, and due to this, Lucas had been compelled to train harder to wage better battles. He wanted to earn their respect, not their obligatory kindness to youths. With time, his admiration for them gradually shifted into something more akin to inspiration, especially when it came to a kind, kindred soul such as Ness.

While he was not as able-bodied as Ike or as lithe as Samus in her zero-suit, after months of training and honing with the assistance of those who were willing, he could hold his ground just as professionally as the lot of them, a stark contrast to his initially timid and cowering stance. Along the way, he had earned not only what he had set out for, but also camaraderie and confidence. He had impressed upon others the same way they had on him, and it was then he knew he had a place among the mélange of fighters.

In an intricate and natural way, Lucas belonged. But he did not know if it was enough to keep him here.

"H-Hey, Ness?" he inquires hesitantly. The farewells are far from ending, as he watches Smashers amass into groups, exchange last remarks and gestures, then drift to seek other crowds.

The dark-haired boy's expression softens upon sensing his fellow psychic's disquietude. "What's up, Lucas?"

"If…If I didn't come b-back next tournament…do you think it'd make a big d-difference?" Would anyone care enough to notice? To protest his absence? To miss him?

Ness immediately whirls to face him and grasps his shoulders firmly. Never having been one to heed the concept of personal space, he bumps his forehead lightly against Lucas' with furrowed brows and an incredulous fire in his violet eyes.

"Why would you even ask that?" he exclaims, shaking Lucas fervently. "Of course it'd be different! It'd be worse!" The usually happy-go-lucky boy seems to wilt under the nervous eyes of his best friend. He swallows, hard. "It's like saying good-bye to your friends at the end of your adventure, except you never see them again because you were never even supposed to meet."

Ness pauses to exhale heavily and release Lucas from his grip. At this point, Lucas examines the ground with unwavering interest, remorseful for introducing such an unsavory topic. With a shadowed expression, Ness continues, "We're from different worlds, Lucas. Different timelines, different dimensions. It's only because of these tourneys that we're able to meet, if not fight. I know you've heard this before; the Hands kept emphasizing this and the fact that it will end one day. It just so happens that day is today. And you know what?"

– He simply extends a hand to the increasingly flustered blond before him. –

"I'm glad I met you, Lucas. You're one of my best friends, you know that? Even if we weren't inclined to meet, I'm glad we did because, well, no matter how creepy or touchy-feely this sounds, it's the truth: I couldn't imagine my life without having you been in it. Meeting you and the others really did change it for the better. I just wish I could've introduced you all to the guys back home." Ness offers a genuine grin that causes Lucas to flush vibrantly with sentiment.

"S-Same," Lucas murmurs bashfully, touched, as he reaches forward to clasp his free hand with Ness' waiting one. In his other, the miniature steadily glows, floating in time to his breathing.

Ness' grin turns cheeky. "Plus, I'd say we had a pretty rockin' adventure with everyone here, didn't we?"

Lucas laughs, an honest, mirthful sound. "Yes," he agrees wholeheartedly, "and I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

Suddenly, a sharp click resonates through the air, and they cast their gaze on the emerging Hands as they finalize the closing of Smash Mansion, at least until the subsequent tournament.

With a light tug on the wrist, Ness says to Lucas, "Come on. Let's go join the others."

It is as they descend the stairs of the Mansion that Lucas realizes that even if he were not to return, he would always have a place in the history of the Super Smash Brothers tournaments, but most importantly, the memories of all those he has come to cherish.

He is a Smasher. He belongs.

And, to him, it is enough.

* * *

A/N: First of all, please excuse my writing. I have been doing less of it as of late, and I fear my skill are getting rusty. I also apologize for just how gosh darn clichéd this was.

I really hope that both of the Mother characters will be reinstated in the SSB, perhaps maybe even with another character, because hey, Fire Emblem has four now, and Lucina's one of them! (I adore her to death.) There may be a chance that Sakurai decides to go all out and pull out all the stops.

_Disclaimer: Super Smash Brothers, MOTHER 3 (Lucas), Earthbound (Ness), Metroid (Samus Aran), and Fire Emblem (Ike) all belong to Nintendo._


End file.
